10:02
by sss979
Summary: In the three years since their last fight with the Foot, the clan has slowly disintegrated into nothing.
1. Prologue

Title: 10:02

Author: sss979

Rating: R

Summary: In the three years since their last fight with the Foot, the clan has slowly disintegrated into nothing.

Warnings: I can't write a PG book about ninjas. Sorry. There's going to be sex and violence.

A/N: This is the part where I confuse everyone who's got me on an author alert by posting two different series for two completely different fandoms. Anyone who's interested in hearing more on that can feel free to pm me. Also, for those of you who may recognize me... yes, this is the Kunoichi Series reborn. I promise nothing on whether or not it will be finished or what it will contain. But later books in this series, which never posted, have weighed heavy on my mind for years with several original plots I've never seen. So I am rebirthing this series, completely rewritten. How far I go with it this time will depend on the kind of feedback I get. **Canon for this piece is 2k3 SEASON ONE ONLY. I include in season 1 the attack on Saki's fortress but NOT the Utroms. Shredder is human, the fight happened, and the man Leonardo beheaded did not get up and walk away. **

**PROLOGUE**

**August 22**

**-2 years**

9:28. Leonardo's eyes lingered on the clock for a long moment as he finished with the dark-colored rag and slipped his swords back into their sheaths - one at a time, very slowly. It was almost ceremonial. No, it _was _ceremonial. As it damn well should be. These weapons were sacred, if only for the amount of blood they'd spilled in the two years since he'd forged them. He remembered every blow of that forging, in that bitter cold barn of Casey's. He remembered it as clearly as if it were yesterday. But it wasn't yesterday. It was a very long time ago. And a lot of blood had been spilled since then...

9:29. He took in a deep breath as he stood, walked to the door, and slipped quietly out of his room. The lair was quiet. There was no telling where everyone was and really, would he even want to know? Even Mike had pulled into himself in the past few months. Maybe it had been even longer than that. He'd lost track. Somewhere in the haze of memories, he knew that some things had once mattered: life, clan, family. Honor... They were all abstract concepts now. Abstract concepts that he clung to, but obscure nonetheless. What was life, now? What was the clan? They lived together, relied on each other as much as they were forced to. They all had a common interest, after all: survival. But the days of training together, running together, fighting together... those were all gone. Common circumstances meant they had to see each other once in a while. It didn't mean they had to _know _each other.

9:30. He grabbed his jacket on his way out of the lair and into the dark, damp sewer tunnel. It was raining again. He could hear it echoing in the tunnels. The sound of running water from the drainage juncture, the dripping of the rainwater through the cracks in the ancient brickwork. Many of these tunnels had been built over a hundred years ago. Layer upon layer of subways and sewers. It was amazing that they were as well-preserved as they were.

9:32. He started off at a jog. Five hundred thirty two steps later, a sharp right turn, and a tight fit through an opening in the wall of the subway tunnel. Two hundred feet to the left, carefully avoiding the electrified tracks, there was a platform. He pulled his hat lower as he climbed up, moved past the warning signs on the gate, and into the crowd of New York City's night life. If anyone noticed that he'd appeared out of the darkness, no one cared.

He didn't look up, didn't glance around. It would be the same as it was last time. The same as it was every Monday night for the past 83 weeks. He couldn't keep track of the last time he'd seen his brothers, but he knew exactly how many times he'd walked this route. Up the stairs of the subway station, past the people all out to enjoy the night. Hopefully their plans weren't ruined by the rain. Ignore them, and they would ignore him. Half of them were probably drunk already anyways. It was already 9:37.

Out into the dark street, avoiding the light from the street lamp on the corner. The prostitute in the pink boots was on patrol, and the Mexican who sold the stolen cell phones. The runaway teenager was sitting against the corner of a pawn shop with his guitar, strumming tunes that he'd long ago forgotten the words to. He wanted to go home, but there was no home to go to anymore. So he sat there, night after night, thinking about how simple life had been before reality set in. Leonardo pitied him. He also identified with him. Deeply.

Leonardo turned right, away from Times Square and the hoards of people who would be there. They would be admiring the lights and drinking themselves stupid on overpriced margaritas and mudslides. He didn't want to see them. Instead, he walked past the souvenir shops that couldn't afford the rent on the strip, right by the man with the newspaper stand and the flowers. He'd notice the purchase that Leonardo made as he passed by, but they wouldn't make eye contact. Five dollars on the counter, another red rose - an even exchange. Leonardo's pace never slowed. Sixteen more steps, and double back through the alley. Swipe the card in the doorway and descend again, down into the subway station. 9:42. The train's doors were just closing. Let it go.

Off the platform to the side, right back into the darkness but not off the edge. Wait thirteen seconds, catch the bar as it passed. Leonardo pulled himself onto the back of the last subway car just before it picked up too much speed. The schedule had been memorized long ago. The orders came from the part of his brain that had relived this night more times than he could count. Every waking hour, he lived it. It was never really far from his mind.

Change trains at West 4th Street. Off of the A train and onto the F. Take it all the way to Brooklyn. Stay out of sight. The platform would be nearly empty. No tourist attractions here. No reason to be out on a Monday night. Off the train and across the platform. Up the stairs and back outside. It was a different world, here. The light mist from the rain wasn't illuminated with neon lights and laughter. It was dark. Almost cold, in spite of the fact that it had been one of the hottest days of summer so far. At least, it seemed cold. Maybe it was all in his head. It probably was.

9:57. Jump the iron fence. The gate had closed hours ago, before dark. It kept stupid kids out. It didn't keep him out. Cool grass. Damp and slippery. Careful not to lose his footing, Leo wound his way through the markers. Somewhere in a far corner of his mind, he was surprised that the grass even grew along this path anymore. He would've thought he'd worn a groove by now. He was sure he passed through the same markers every week. Sometimes more than once.

10:02 He stopped. He didn't need to check the face of his watch. He knew without looking. He swallowed hard, and knelt down, placing the single rose three inches in front of the tombstone. The grass had long ago re-grown over the plot where she was buried. It didn't make it any easier to look at, knowing that it had been so long since they'd put her in the ground.

He sat down, legs crossed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He wasn't sure how long he remained. Hours, maybe. Or perhaps only a few minutes. Here again, like it was some sort of penance. Maybe that's exactly what it was. But if it was penance, absolution should be following someday. Some kind of relief. Anything to ease this burning in his chest. As it was, he could barely breathe every time he knelt down beside her.

"Are you okay?"

Intruder.

Instinct told him to reach for his weapons. Experience told him not to. Eyes open, he immediately found the source of the unfamiliar voice, and he cursed himself for not hearing her sooner. But his thoughts were a blur. It was no wonder that he was unaware of his surroundings. _That's no excuse..._

"I'm fine."

His eyes narrowed as he squinted into the hazy, rainy darkness. She was standing just a few feet away. What was she doing here?

"You are aware that the cemetery closed five hours ago." It was only partly a question. "If they catch you here, you could be arrested."

"That doesn't seem to stop you," she pointed out.

She took a few steps closer, and he stood, keeping his fight or flight instincts at bay until he knew what he was dealing with. Who was she? More importantly, what did she want?

"I'm Leslie."

That answered the lesser of the two questions.

She was holding out a hand. He didn't take it. She didn't know yet who - rather, _what _- she was talking to. He didn't want her to know. Though he knew it was rude, he really didn't want to encourage her. He turned away.

"You really shouldn't be here, Leslie," he stated. "There's an armed security guard who does patrols. You very well could be caught."

"Yes, I know." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her lower her hand again, slipping it into the pocket of her black raincoat. "His name is Terry. He's a friend of mine."

Glancing back, he studied her for a moment, uneasy with that explanation. It gave her a right to be here; it didn't give her a reason.

"I came by a few days ago to see my mom and he was telling me about this guy who always jumps the fence and comes in here at ten o'clock every Monday night."

_10:02_, Leonardo corrected silently.

"I thought he was out of his mind. Apparently he wasn't."

Leonardo stared, cautious. If someone had known he was coming here, why hadn't they ever tried to stop him? He wanted to ask how they knew he was there. Instead, he opted for retreat.

"It was nice meeting you, Leslie."

"No wait, don't go!"

He only made it two steps before her voice stopped him.

"It's just..." She hesitated. "It's just that up until now, I really thought I was crazy that I still come up here twice a week to see my mom. But I see that she," Leslie looked down at the tombstone that Leonardo had been standing over, "died over a year ago and _you're _still coming every week."

He eyed her carefully, watching her entire body rise and fall with the deep breath she took. He was waiting for her to get to her question.

"I still feel like there's this big hole," she continued. "And it's been almost two months. Does it ever get any better?"

His eyes narrowed at her, not speaking.

"I'm sorry." She was blinking rapidly, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. She finally had to employ the use of her fingers, dabbing at the corner of her eyes. "I shouldn't be -"

"It's okay."

She was embarrassed. It showed in the way she turned away from him.

"It does get better," he finally said. "It has to. But I couldn't tell you when it'll start. It hasn't started for me, yet."

"Really?"

"I'm sorry."

She nodded slowly and wiped her eyes again, brushing away the last of the tears. Then she took a deep, cleansing breath.

"My mom's buried right over there." She pointed, and he followed her gaze. "I keep coming back with this idea that someday I'm going to say goodbye and _mean _it. But it just doesn't work that way, does it?"

Leonardo hesitated on the threshold of the conversation. If he crossed it, he was stepping into her world, and almost inevitably letting her into his. He didn't want to do that. But that hurting part inside of him couldn't seem to help it.

"How did she die?" he asked.

"Hit and run accident. She was dead before the paramedics even got there."

"I'm sorry."

She forced a smile, and shrugged. "They caught the guy, at least. Hopefully they lock him up for a good long time."

Leonardo's eyes lowered. To the ground, then the rose, then the name on the tombstone. He wished he had a nice, concise explanation like that for why he was here.

"Was she your sister?"

The question caught him off guard. "Huh?"

Leslie gestured to the engraving. "She was too young to be your mother."

"Oh. Yeah, she -" _Why lie? _ "- was my sister."

_Lie because it's easier_.

If she was a sister, it meant that certain questions wouldn't come up. Questions like "how did you meet her?" and "how long were you together?" He didn't want to answer those kinds of questions.

"January 21st." Leslie crouched down, running her fingertips over the date. "That's my brother's birthday."

Leonardo smiled tightly, but he didn't respond.

"How did she die?"

"She was murdered."

"Oh, God." She stood again. "Did they ever catch who did it?"

"No."

"That must have been horrible."

"Yes."

"Do you have any other family?"

This was getting too personal. Too uncomfortable. If he started talking about his family, he was saying too much. "I should go."

"I'm sorry," she apologized quickly. "I don't mean to pry. I really don't."

"It's okay." _No, it's not. _ "I just need to get going."

"Well, I'll see you later, then. Okay?"

She held out her hand once more, a friendly gesture. He didn't take it. Instead, he gave her a slight bow, enough for her to recognize that he was, in fact, acknowledging her. He just didn't want to take her hand.

"Leonardo," he offered quietly.

She smiled as she withdrew her hand again and returned the nod. "Nice to meet you, Leonardo."


	2. Chapter One

**CHAPTER ONE**

**Present Day**

"Hey, Leo, have you seen Raph?"

Leonardo raised a brow at the question. "You're asking me?" he asked. He hoped Mike realized how ludicrous that was.

"Well, I just figured that if anyone would know, it'd be you."

"No, Mike. Normally if I really need to know where he is, I'd ask you."

Mike grinned. "Well that wouldn't do much good. 'Cause I dunno where he's at."

"That makes two of us."

"I bet if I asked Donny, it'd be three. Of course, I'd have to find Donny first."

"I don't know where he is either," Leonardo offered, before he was asked.

"He's prolly off blowin' shit up in his secret hideout," Mike shrugged. He paused for just a moment before his next brilliant idea hit. "Hey, let's go find out if he ever got that arcade to work!"

Leonardo sighed. It was times like this that he just wanted to shake his brother. _You're nineteen! Stop acting like a child! _But "child" was a role that Michaelangelo played very well. And, all things considered, at least Mike was here. Leo could remember a time not so long ago when Mike had been just as secluded as the rest of them.

"I want to finish reading this book before I go to bed."

"Bed?" Mike sounded horrified at the prospect. "But it's only nine o'clock!"

"8:53," Leo corrected without looking at the clock.

"Whatever. The night is young, bro! And so are we!"

Leonardo sighed deeply, and stood up from the couch. "Sorry, Mike," he said, heading for his room. "Watch a movie or something."

"A movie?" Another mortified gasp. "On such a beautiful night?"

"Good night, Michaelangelo."

He realized then that he was losing the battle. "Aww... come on!"

"Good night."

The closing of his bedroom door was the last Leonardo had to say on the matter. On the other side of it, he could hear Mike offer one last attempt. "Party pooper!"

Leo shook his head as he walked to his bed. He set the book on the bedside table before lying down on his stomach, arms tucked up under his head. 8:55. The glowing red digits on the alarm clock burned his eyes. He sighed, and shut them. Damn it. It wasn't Monday. Why was he watching the damned clock?

The door to the lair opened. Then it shut again. No "welcome home" meant that Mike had left, not that someone had come back. Good. But the last thing he wanted to do was entertain his brother. He didn't have the energy right now. Maybe Mike would actually find Raph.

*X*X*X*

"Vodka tonic," she ordered, sitting down at the bar. She pulled her wallet out of her purse as the bartender returned with the drink, but he waved her aside.

"Already paid for."

She blinked surprised. "Is it Thursday already?" she asked, glancing around. Her hair was still wet from the shower, and she ruffled it a little to loosen it up, scratching her scalp.

The bartender nodded. "Sure is."

"You know," she pulled the drink a little closer to her and reached into her purse again for her cigarettes, "I keep thinking that one of these days he's going to stop buying me drinks and actually come have a conversation with me."

She smirked a little at the man behind the counter. He grinned back, knowingly. "You gotta admire the guy's dedication. This has been every Thursday night for... how many weeks?"

"Seven."

"Guess he really wants to make a good impression."

"Or he's just really shy."

"Personally, I think it's kinda genius. He's gotcher attention, got you comin' back every week, an' you ain't even seen his face."

She grinned. "Well, my curiosity sometimes overwhelms my common sense. What can I say?"

"Oh." He reached behind him, near the bottles, and grabbed an envelope. "Shit, I almost forgot. This is from him. Said to give it to you."

With one hand he gave her the envelope, and with the other he reached for his lighter. She leaned forward as he flicked it on, and lit her cigarette. "Thanks."

She set the envelope down on the bar top and stared at it for a minute as the bartender walked away. It _was_ sort of ingenious. Expensive, but ingenious. Her curiosity was, absolutely, piqued.

It had started with one drink, bought for her by someone who didn't want to be identified. She'd shrugged it off, and accepted. His loss, after all. But at the end of the night, she came to find out that her entire tab had been picked up. That had stunned her a little. She wasn't cheap, and it had been a significant amount. Enough to make her ask who'd paid it. But the bartender told her again that the guy didn't want to be identified. He just wanted to buy her drinks next Thursday.

So she'd come back. She'd come back seven times. Seven Thursdays. Last week, she'd finally decided that if he wouldn't talk to her, and she couldn't figure out which of the handful of regulars he could possibly be, she had two options: either she could randomly start approaching them and demand to know who was doing this, or she could play his game a little. She chose the latter, and wrote him a simple note. It had a phone number, but he hadn't called. And it had a question. "What is it you want?"

She took a deep drag from her cigarette, then set it in the ashtray as she opened the envelope.

"If I can keep watching you every Thursday night I'll die happy."

She laughed out loud. At this point, the man had spent well over five hundred dollars on her. Nobody's motives were that pure. Not when this much money was involved. Five hundred dollars to watch someone drink was a lot when you could get a hooker for twenty.

"What're you drinkin'?" The question startled her, and she looked to the side as a bulky figure in a trench coat sat down on the stool next to her.

"What's it to you?"

He chuckled quietly and gestured a little to the bartender. "Hey, Tony, can I get a beer and another vodka tonic for her."

She paused at that. It was him. He knew what she drank, and she knew he hadn't ever been close enough to overhear. He was the one who sat in the back corner, at the booth with no overhead light and a dozen glasses on the table. One of the regulars.

"So." She took another drag from her cigarette. "Suddenly you wanna talk to me?"

"Got a problem with that?"

She studied him for a moment – at least, what she could see of him. She'd never seen his face, and she couldn't see it now. He kept his hat too low, and the collar of his jacket up. And the bar was dark.

She glanced up as Tony brought her another drink.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

She finished her cigarette, and half of her second drink, without another word. Then she turned her whole body to face the man beside her.

"I don't even know your name."

"I don't know yours, either."

The invitation was there, but she didn't answer. She just eyed him, up and down. He played this game well. Non-answers and mind games. But she knew she was better.

"Do you want to fuck me?" she asked pointedly.

If he was startled, he didn't show it. He just reached for his beer. She stared at his hand. He was wearing some kind of smooth - leather? - glove. And it was green.

"You want me to?"

She watched him for a moment, then slid off of the stool and grabbed her purse. Two could play at this game. If he didn't want to give her a straight answer, she'd just let him think about what he would say next time.

"I'll see you next Thursday."

He didn't look up as she walked to the door, and exited into the dark street.

*X*X*X*

**FizixRoxMe69 (11:00:21 PM): **So what are you wearing?

**don_h_911 (11:00:58 PM):** Ha. Funny. I could ask you the same thing...

**FizixRoxMe69 (11:01:27 PM):** you could...

**don_h_911 (11:01:45 PM): **Or you could just TELL me.

**FizixRoxMe69 (11:02:05 PM): **hmm... what AM i wearing? Guess it depends on just how much time we have...

Donatello sat back a little in the rolling chair and stretched his arms above his head, staring at the computer screen with a slight smile. After holding the position for a moment, he dropped his hands back to the keyboard.

**don_h_911 (11:02:44 PM):** I've got all the time in the world.

"Dooooonny..." The singsong voice, echoing through the tunnel, made him cringe. "Oh Dooonny..."

He sighed. He could choose not to answer. But that wouldn't stop his brother. "What's broke now, Mike?"

"Aha! I found you."

**don_h_911 (11:03:28 PM): **brb

Don turned off the computer monitor before his brother came close. Once Mike was in the line of sight, he asked the question again.

"What did you break?"

The implication - that something being broken was the only reason Mike would've come here - was clear. And Mike took the opportunity to greatly exaggerate the level of offense he took at such a statement.

"Moi? Break something? Never!"

Don sighed, and folded his arms over his plastron, watching Mike passively. "Then what can I do for you, Mike?"

"I'm bored."

That was it. That was all the explanation Mike was going to give. Don watched him for a moment, expecting more. Then used a hand to gesture that he was still waiting. "And...?"

Mike sighed deeply. "Dude, you wanna go run or something? Like... anything? We can go get pizza. I'll even buy."

"No thanks, Mike." Don turned away, leaving his brother leaned against the table and walking to the little refrigerator in the corner.

"Aww, come on! We never do anything together anymore! I mean... remember? It was just a couplea years ago and we used to all go out running together all the time."

"Sorry, Mike. I've got stuff to do."

"What kinda stuff?"

"Boring stuff. Really boring stuff you wouldn't be interested in." Don returned from the fridge with a bottle of water and handed it to his brother. "Here. Go run. Why don't you ask Leo to go with you?"

"I tried. He said he was too busy thinking."

"Maybe you can find Raph, then."

Mike laughed out loud at that. "Raph? I couldn't find him if I tried. And I sure as hell wouldn't be able to tear him away from whatever girl he happens to be with."

*X*X*X*

"Holy fucking _shit_!"

Raphael chuckled at her surprise. Her reaction hardly bothered him. In fact, he liked seeing it. She'd been so self-confident in the bar. Nice to see another side of her - the startled, stunned, and panicked side.

He folded his arms over his plastron and leaned back against the wall. In spite of the way her eyes darted, she was slowly relaxing as she realized he wasn't making any move toward her.

"Who are you, what are you, and what do you want?" she demanded, her voice calm.

There was the confidence he knew.

"I didn't wanna wait 'til next Thursday night to see you again."

She blinked, startled. He watched the pieces click together in her mind. "You're him?"

"Him," he repeated. "Yeah, that's me. You can call me Raphael."

She frowned. "You're not human."

"No shit?" He smirked. "And here I was wondering why I never seemed to fit in."

Her eyes were still a bit too wide, but there was no fear. She was studying him, analyzing him as if sizing up an enemy.

"So you followed me?"

"Yeah," he answered plainly. "Sure did."

"Stalking is illegal in all fifty states, you know."

"Better call the cops."

She brushed her hair back from her face and shifted. What she saw in her analysis made her nervous, and she was trying to hide it. But he could sense it.

"So, what, you're just trying to give me a heart attack, is that it? Why're you following me?"

Raph chuckled softly, and his eyes ran over her as he debated the best way to approach this one. "You made an offer in the bar. I've reconsidered."

She laughed. "That wasn't an offer. It was more of a threat."

"Threat, huh?" He grinned.

Her anxiety was subsiding, the confidence returning. Her eyes narrowed at him. "You don't want to fuck with me."

"That in a literal or figurative sense."

"Either."

"Nah, that's where you're wrong."

He took a step forward and immediately knew she was going to attack. He could feel it, even before she moved. He wasn't sure where she'd gotten the small blade, but he didn't really have time to think about it. As her strike went for his throat, his hand went for her wrist. He caught her other one at the same time, with his other hand, and her back hit the wall hard as he pinned her, hands above her head.

"Nice." He smirked at her. "But if you're trying to make me _less _interested in you, you'd better change tactics."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she growled.

"Means I like a challenge."

He expected to see anger in her eyes. Maybe even indignation. Instead, there was an emptiness that didn't match her hard, angry expression.

"Just who do you think you are, anyways?"

"That a real question?" he asked as he caught a whiff of her pheromones. "Or just somethin' yer sayin' 'cause Momma always taught you to play hard to get?"

"Fuck me and I'll kill you."

He laughed at the way she said that. No threat, just simple cause and effect.

"There are worse ways to die, baby."

He leaned forward a little, reassured by her scent that it wasn't an entirely unwelcome gesture. His lips brushed hers, but he didn't kiss her. He just hung there, and waited for her to either give in or resist - one of the two.

She was the one to initiate the kiss, and his hands moved slowly first to disarm her, then down her arms with the blade between his fingers. He dropped it on the floor as his hands moved to her sides. This had not gone at all as he'd expected. He'd never had a girl pull a knife on him before. Scream, yes. Threaten to call the police, once. But never try to attack him. And certainly never go from attack to kiss in sixty seconds.

Finally, she pulled away from the kiss. Slowly. Her arms were still above her, and she left them there, remaining perfectly still. "You're awful sure of yourself."

"I can afford to be."

"What makes you so sure I'm interested in you?"

Raphael lowered his eyes, not hiding the fact that he was looking straight down her robe. She did nothing to stop him.

"Ordinarily, I wouldn't be so sure," he admitted. "Ya see, normally the way this works is I buy you drinks, you wonder why I never say hi, and then you meet me face to face and you figure out why. Then I tell you a really sad story about how women are always scared of me and don't even want to give me a chance. Then you say that no, you're different. And at some point over the next few hours to, say, weeks… you prove it. Then the sex is so fuckin' good, you want me to keep comin' back."

She laughed at his explanation. "Sounds like you got me all figured out."

"No," he corrected. "I got the system figured out. I got a dozen or so friends that it worked great with. But yer kinda throwin' a wrench in it with all yer fuckin' pheromones an' I ain't even had a chance to give my sob story yet before you want me."

"Confidence is not your problem, is it?" she challenged with a glare.

"It ain't yers, either."

"I'm going to warn you one more time. You don't want me."

"I'd tell you not to waste your breath," he pressed closer, pushing her harder up against the wall, "but like I said -"

She pushed off the wall suddenly, trying to hurtle herself into him. But all of her weight was barely enough to push him back a single step. Her back hit the wall again, his hands holding her hips this time.

"I like a challenge."


	3. Chapter Two

**CHAPTER TWO **

Leonardo was on his way to bed when the sound of the door opening drew his attention. Was Raphael home? Mike and Don were both on the couch. Whatever Mike had used to blackmail Don into more time in the lair, it seemed to be working for the moment. Master Splinter was in his room; he certainly wouldn't have ventured out this late. Leo glanced at the clock. Not late enough. The bars hadn't closed yet. But it wouldn't be the first time Raph had come home "early".

The door opened. Human, not Raph. That was all Leo processed before his weapons were drawn. Mike and Don heard the sound, and like Pavlov's dogs, they were up and armed. Any one of them would've had no hesitation to kill, except the intruder was a woman, and clearly no threat.

She was young, dark blond hair pulled up in a clip behind her head. Pretty, in red high heels and a long, beige trench coat tied tightly around her waist. Leo put the pieces together fast. Raph's kind of girl. No accident that she'd found this place. Especially not in high heels.

"Who are you?"

The girl jumped back suddenly, startled by his voice. Her eyes adjusted, and a choked scream caught in her throat. "Omigod!"

Leonardo resheathed his weapons, aware as his brothers followed suit. She was no physical threat. At least, not at this very moment.

"Hey," Mike greeted as casually as he could manage given the situation. To say that she was no physical threat did not at all imply that she was no threat at all. How had she found them? "You're either _really_ lost or... well... really lost."

"Who are you?" Leo demanded again.

She didn't answer. Instead, she turned and bolted, leaving behind one of her high-heeled shoes as she stumbled out into the tunnel. Leo glanced back at his brothers, in no great hurry to follow. She wouldn't get far in one high-heeled shoe.

"I think she's lost." Mike was amused by this. "What do you think?"

Leo afforded him a brief glare, and started after her.

*X*X*X*

Mike watched Leonardo go after the girl, and moved to lean against the doorframe, arms across his plastron. He couldn't really see anything out there, but he knew she wouldn't get far. She was running scared.

"She didn't come completely unprepared," Donatello said, bending to pick up the worn, yellow flashlight.

Mike's eyes lingered on her shoe. After a moment, he knelt to retrieve it. "How the hell does she walk in these things?" Mike considered, shaking his head a little. "And through the sewer tunnels, no less."

They heard her cry out, and a splash as she fell. "Not very well, apparently," Donatello answered dryly.

A brief scream was cut off, and Mike knew his brother had a hand over her mouth. She hadn't managed to get very far. Mike was able to hear clearly as Leonardo tried to calm her.

"Relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

"You didn't have to run," Mike called down the tunnel. "And it's not a real smart thing to do with rusty nails and broken glass and -"

"Enough, Mike!"

Michaelangelo cocked his head slightly to the side as he saw the dim shadows return down the tunnel. He smiled as he got a good look at her, and held up her shoe on his finger.

"Think ya lost this, hon." His smile fell as he smelled blood. "You okay?"

Blood was dripping from the bottom of her foot to the floor as Leonardo guided her over to the sofa, supporting her weight easily.

"Go get the herbs and bandages," Leo ordered. "Who knows what she stepped on out there."

Mike turned to get bandages, but Donatello was already gone. He shrugged as he turned back, eyes running over the girl. Pretty. His eyes started at the cut, where he was sure they very well should have, but then traveled upward, over her long, bare legs. The coat was parted to mid-thigh by the way she was sitting, and there was still no hint of fabric.

He grinned to himself as his eyes traveled up further over her full chest - he could see that even through the coat - smooth neck, pretty facial features. Her hair was a bit ragged now since her run, and almost ready to fall out of the clip. But it didn't make her any less attractive. A hand connecting with the back of his head snapped him out of it.

"Ow! What was that for?"

Leo looked up from the floor and gave his brother a firm, not-quite-scolding look. Don grinned slightly as his hand lowered.

"{Stop staring.}"

Mike laughed. "Fuck you."

Leo sighed and merely shook his head as Don handed him the box. Opening it carefully, he then lifted her foot, but she pulled back. "I can take care of it," she stammered, struggling for a sense of dignity. "It's not that bad."

Leo just shook his head, not letting go of her foot. "Please. Allow me."

She watched him, slightly distrusting. She might not have allowed him if he'd actually been asking. But it wasn't a request. He wasn't letting her go. She sighed deeply, and chose not to fight him.

"When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?" Donatello asked.

She thought for a moment. "Two... three years ago?"

Mike perched on the arm of the couch. "Soooo... you got a name? How'd you find us? We uh... don't get too many visitors down here. 'Specially pretty ones wearin' high heels."

She realized her jacket was open a little too far up her leg and closed the gap just as Leo doused her minor wound with antiseptic. "Ow!"

"Sorry."

Mike smirked. Leo wasn't used to dealing with people who thought this was a painful injury. She didn't even need stitches.

"My name's Ivy. I didn't mean to startle you. I didn't think there'd be anyone here."

"Weeellll... You were expecting... what? You certainly dressed up for it, whatever it was."

He was prying very carefully, wondering just how much she'd admit to. They all knew they'd never get anything out of Raphael.

She shifted slightly, pressing her knees tight together. She suddenly seemed very nervous. "I..."

She never finished, and Mike leaned forward slightly once he realized she wasn't going to continue. "Well...?"

A noise at the front door directed all attention away from the interrogation. Mike's stomach sank. Raphael was home. And Mike had secretly been hoping to spare her from having to see this.

*X*X*X*

It took Raphael all of two seconds to realize all three of his brothers were waiting for him. He recognized the woman on the couch immediately. Aw, shit.

"Explain Raphael," Leonardo ordered, his voice flat.

Raph was barely in the door. As he closed it behind him, he glared at his brother. "Explain what? You accusing me of something?"

"She knew where to find us, Raphael. I can only think of one of us who could have shown her."

Raph watched him for a moment, determining the level of anger and just how much of a threat he was facing right now. After brief debate, his eyes turned to the girl on the couch.

"Ivy, what the fuck are you doing here?"

Leo was still waiting for some kind of explanation. This situation was deadly. Nitroglycerine and open flame stood a few feet from each other. When they clashed, it wasn't going to be pretty. Raphael was pretty sure they were going to clash. And Ivy, shifting uncomfortably, was caught right in the middle of it. Probably served her right for coming here.

"I... was hoping to see you again."

How _did _she get here, anyway?

"See me again?" Raphael growled. "If I wanted to see you, I'd come to you."

"How did she find us, Raphael?"

Raph made every attempt to stand his ground while he worked through the questions that made his thoughts blur.

"Ask her. I didn't roll out the carpet for her, if that's what you're thinking."

Leo turned to the woman on the couch, looking past Mike in the process. "Well, Miss? How exactly did you know where to find him?" His tone was exceedingly polite, but made it clear he was expecting an answer. Raph's gaze followed.

Ivy swallowed. "I followed him down here."

A sinking feeling in the pit of Raphael's stomach told him he had a good idea how she'd pulled that off, but he couldn't let that sinking feeling show in his features. He'd been more smashed last night than he remembered being in a very long time. He didn't remember the walk home. The last thing he remembered was licking vodka off of her chest, then waking up in his own bed with the worst hangover he'd had in his life. But he wasn't about to offer that ammunition to his brother.

He was trapped. He knew the argument this would spark. She'd followed him, and he hadn't noticed her, and he was supposed to be a _ninja_? How could he not notice that?

He turned his attention back to her, trying to avoid his brother. "So, what, you planned it?" he demanded. "You are seriously fucked up, you know that?"

Ivy watched him, clearly terrified.

"What I want to know is how she managed to follow you without you noticing."

And there it was. Leo's tone was inviting a battle, and Raph responded instinctively. "Shut up, Leo. Just shut up, okay? I don't need you stickin' your nose into this right now."

"I'd say I lost the choice on sticking my nose into it the second she walked through the door, Raph. This is exactly the kind of danger you going out and getting smashed -"

"We can't keep secluded our entire fucking lives, you know." Bad argument. It was a losing argument. Raph knew it. "Hell, we've fuckin' invited people down here! Casey? April?"

"Might I remind you what happened to Casey and April?"

That cold anger settled over Raphael as he glared at his brother, hands instinctively moving to his weapons.

"Don't go there."

Thankfully, Leo heeded the warning. He even dropped his tone as he continued. "Every person we bring down here is a threat. If you were even slightly more selective than a god damned cat in heat, we might -"

"Yeah, she might kill us all in our sleep, right?"

"That's not what I meant."

"She didn't come down here to kill us; she came down here to get laid, Leo."

"She may not be a threat, but did you consider who else she might have told?"

"Why's she got any reason to tell anyone else, huh?"

"How exactly did she manage to follow you, Raphael?"

Raph growled as his brother stalked toward him. Leo was redirecting the argument to the part he knew he'd win.

"Even you should have noticed someone behind you!"

Raph's eyes narrowed as he considered the safest way to answer that. "I dunno, Leo." His voice darkened, taking on a sadistic, dangerous edge. "What if I did bring her down here? What if I brought her down and fucked her on our kitchen table? What would you do about it, huh?"

"Other than having my opinion of your intelligence confirmed once and for all?"

"The hell do I care what your opinion entails?" A touch of arrogance crept into his tone. "I'm gonna fuck who I want, when I want, where I want and there ain't a goddamn thing you can do about it. And you know it. And I think that fact alone pisses you off a hell of a lot more than the fact that this girl happens to be here now because of it."

Leo's voice dropped, almost to a whisper. "You are like a spoiled child, do you know that?"

Raphael's head lowered as he growled. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Don and Mike's hands drift to their weapons at the sound of it. "Don't push me, Leo."

"Stop putting this clan in danger."

"You tell me one time when this clan wasn't in danger, Leo. We're fucking science experiments waiting to happen, living in a goddamn sewer, hiding out from a much larger and more powerful clan. My social life is the least of your worries if you wanna protect us."

Don and Mike both flinched and exchanged glances. But neither spoke. They were wise enough to stay out of the line of fire.

"Your social life is a large part of what makes protecting this family so difficult. You go out, get drunk, and could lead a fucking army back here, and you'd never know until it was too late."

The fact that he was swearing alerted Raph to just how angry he was at the moment. And he really didn't give a damn. He wanted out of here. That was all he wanted. His patience for this argument was over, and he was leaving.

He moved. Not away, not an advance on Leo, but towards the girl. "You want me to fix it? Fine."

No time to react. It was Mike who stepped in his way, eyes on fire as he held his hands tight around his weapons, but left them in his belt. "Don't do it."

That flat, dangerous tone didn't belong in Mike's voice. Something in Raphael instinctively knew that. But at the moment, he couldn't make himself care. Raph pulled his weapons. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Leo make a move, but Donatello stepped in his way, leaving the match between Mike and Raph.

"What're you gonna do about it?" Raph threatened, raising the tip of the sharpened steel to Mike's neck.

"Don't do it," Mike warned again, still unarmed with his head tipped back, away from the cold steel. "You will not come back this time."

"What makes you think I'd wanna come back?"

Mike's voice lowered to a whisper as he glared at his brother. "Fuck you."

Raphael growled, bringing the tip of the blade a little closer to the main artery in his neck. "You got a death wish?"

"So kill me. But there's no way in fucking hell I'm gonna stand down."

Silence. Stillness. All four brothers had stopped breathing some time ago. Only Ivy's gasps for breath and quiet whimpers remained. Raph jerked his weapon back suddenly, shoving Mike hard as he spun away. Don pulled Leo out of his path, not giving him the option to block Raph's escape route. He walked to the door, his fist still clenched around the handle of his _sai_. He didn't speak, didn't make eye contact, just walked, determined. Out of the lair, and into the safety of loneliness outside.


	4. Chapter Three

**CHAPTER THREE**

"What the hell were you thinking, Mike?"

Leo's tone was even, but Mike's was just plain dead. "You know what I was thinking."

There was nothing more to say. Leo did know. And every fraction of anger drained from his eyes, replaced by helpless fear that he tried desperately to hide. It took him a moment to pull himself together. Then he turned to Ivy.

"I think that perhaps it is time for you to go home."

She nodded enthusiastically.

"I'm sure I don't have to tell you to keep this place a secret."

"Oh, no. I won't say a thing. To anybody. I promise."

"Good. Don? Make sure she gets home safely. She's not dressed to meet with strangers."

Donatello stood, and offered her a hand. She took it hesitantly and rose, making sure her coat was kept tightly around her barely-dressed body. After a moment of struggling to get her shoe back on, Don led her to the door, one arm around her waist to support her as she limped.

Mike watched them go. Behind him, he heard a faint click, and turned just in time to see Master Splinter's door close. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered how much of that he'd heard. Probably all of it. His hearing was better than any of theirs.

Once the front door closed, and Ivy was gone, Mike finally took a breath. "You know if you'd stepped in, somebody would've been hurt."

"And it could've been you," Leonardo answered harshly. He was pacing. Mike's eyes followed him, though he remained perfectly still.

"Could've been. But it wasn't."

"Do you even understand what -"

"I understand, Leo," Michaelangelo interrupted, eyes narrowed. How dare Leo imply that he didn't. "I saw more of it than any of you."

"He could've killed you."

"He wouldn't kill me."

"Then you don't really understand."

"He's not that far gone, Leo."

"Really? What changed?"

"He's not."

Leo was losing patience. "Bullshit!"

"And even if he was!" Mike suddenly yelled back. "Wouldn't it be better for you to know so you could get him off the fucking street?"

"Not if it costs your life," Leonardo answered through his teeth.

Mike breathed in deep, and pulled his anger under control again. He was good at that. He'd had a lot of years to practice. "Well, I'm sorry you feel that way, Leo. Because I disagree."

"I am not willing to sacrifice a member of this clan for -"

"Raphael is a member of this clan!" Mike cried. Anger and temperance were apparently two different things. Even void of the anger, feeling nothing, Mike couldn't keep his voice down.

"Raphael has walked away from this clan."

"So have I!"

Leonardo stopped talking, shut his eyes, and set his jaw. When Mike continued, his voice was lower.

"And so have you. You're just as guilty as he is. As we all are. And you know it."

Very slowly, Leonardo opened his eyes again. "Who the hell do you think you are, Mike?"

"I think I'm the only one who gives a shit anymore. Every single person in this clan is dying! Because not one of us can lay our lives on the line, and willingly die, to see this family survive."

"You think I wouldn't give my life to bring this family back together again?"

Mike shook his head. "No, it's not that simple, Leo. You don't get that kind of guarantee. You just get to die. And maybe it'll accomplish something. Or maybe everybody'll just hate you for it."

Leonardo stared at him for a long moment. Then, slowly, he turned away. Mike watched him retreat to his room, and finally relaxed his stance as the door shut behind him.

*X*X*X*

Ivy wanted to say something. But she didn't really know what to say. Anything, really, to break the silence. Anything to calm that uneasy feeling as he led her through the sewer tunnels. "Um... are you sure you know where you're going?"

"Yes."

It was the only answer she got from him. And it was the only thing he'd said since they left his home. She shut her eyes, and swallowed back her fear. She had nothing to say. Instead, she let herself drown in her thoughts.

No wonder why Raphael had lied about his family, told her he lived alone. If his home life was so violent and hateful, it was no surprise that he would want to deny it. The insults still rang in her ears. The fear was still real; she could still taste it even though she'd stopped shaking a while ago. Men had fought over her before. But never like that.

She couldn't help the wash of pity that came over her when she thought about just how angry Raph had been. All of those accusations and mean words had put him into such a terrible mood. She never wanted to see him angry like that again. She wanted to help him. Somewhere underneath all of that anger... she knew there was a sensitive, caring person. She'd seen him. But his anger distorted that image.

He was not only angry, but now she realized that he was also very unhappy. She'd never in her life seen someone so unhappy. She totally understood now why he'd avoided questions about his family, and why he'd lied to her when he'd told her he lived alone. They were so quick to blame him, so quick to judge him!

And it wasn't even his fault. He knew that. She was the one who'd gotten him drunk. She was the one who'd followed him. But instead of throwing her to the dogs, he'd protected her, taking the brunt of his brothers' anger on himself. And the way his brother had fired those insults at him... It was verbal and emotional abuse no matter how she looked at it. Raphael was the scapegoat in this family.

A surge of anger rushed through her as she considered that. All he wanted was to be understood. Why was everyone so mean to him? That one brother of his in particular... He was such a bully. Not just toward Raphael, but toward her, and toward the others, too. When he'd barked an order, Raphael's brother had jumped up to obey. How could anyone bear to live under such a constant tyrannical oppression? She had to come back. She had to help him.

"Your apartment should be right above us," Raphael's brother suddenly announced, cutting through her thoughts. She stopped and waited as he started up a rusted ladder, wreathed with trash. "Wait here."

She watched as he went up and pushed the manhole cover aside. He disappeared for a moment, then looked back down at her. "Okay. Come on."

It was difficult to climb in heels. Especially when her foot still hurt quite a bit. But she made it. He helped her up as she reached the last few rungs, and blinked as she looked around. "Right there," he pointed for her, gesturing across the street. "Will you be okay making it in?"

"I should be fine," she assured. She turned and forced a tight smile. "Thank you. For walking me home. It was really nice to meet you."

He answered her smile with a matching one - forced and uncertain. "Good-bye, Ivy," he nodded. She hesitated long enough to watch him descend back down into the hole in the ground. A moment later, he pulled the cover over it again, leaving her alone in the dark alley.

*X*X*X*

Leonardo stared at the flickering flame of the candle as it blurred and swirled through the haze of tears. His jaw was still set in an effort not to cry, but the tears had been flowing for some time now. Where his attention had been focused almost entirely on keeping them from falling, he now let his mind wander over all the reasons why they were.

_ "Fuck all of you! You fucking want me to leave?"_

_ "You _let_ her follow you..."_

_ "She ain't a danger _now_, Leo..."_

Leonardo's eyes slid closed. Every time he thought the pain was subsiding, he realized the wounds would never heal. They cut too deeply into the heart of what the clan was. What it had been. They'd been a family once. And since then it had all gotten so wrong. The most crushing thing about it - the thing that made him sick - was the fact that he'd caused it.

_ "You are like a spoiled child, do you know that?"_

The words, echoing in his head, made him shake violently, and he brought his knees up to his chest, curling into a ball. That wasn't his voice. It couldn't have been his voice, calling his brother back when he would've walked away. It couldn't have been his voice saying those words. It was the Enemy's voice, calling out a resounding victory for everything that he hated with every fiber of his being. And the killing blow could not have been more directly aimed.

He could feel himself crumbling inside, broken by feelings of remorse and confusion... and self-hatred. He despised himself for allowing the Enemy to use his mouth. He should be stronger than that. He should be able to recognize the sound of its voice. God knew he was well enough acquainted with it.

_ "What makes you think I'd wanna come back?"_

He would come back. Not because he wanted to, but because he had nowhere else to go. They could resent each other, even hate each other, but they were bound by common circumstance. Live together, die alone. They all knew that. It was what kept them all coming back to the remnants of a life that had ended long ago.

_"You're just as guilty as he is."_

Leonardo heard the knock on his door, but he didn't answer. He turned his head away, resting his cheek on his kneepads. Something primal inside of him still felt, like he had as a child, that if he could just make himself small enough, insignificant enough, the Enemy would simply pass over him and not kill him. Because even though he realized there really wasn't much to live for anymore, that same primal instinct saw survival as a necessity.

"Leonardo."

He heard the voice. He heard the door open, and he shut his eyes hard.

_Go away... Please just pass over me... _

He didn't hear or see the approach, but he felt it. Across from him on the worn rug, his _sensei _sat down. Leo didn't look at him. He couldn't. That aching part of him that felt so wrong knew that he had failed again. And he couldn't stand to face that in the presence of his _sensei_.

"I'm so sorry."

He didn't think, just spoke. And as he spoke, he felt himself breaking down even further. Soon there would be nothing left of him, he knew. Maybe then he could just cease to exist and be at peace.

"He will return, Leonardo."

Leo shook his head slightly, still resting it on his knees. "Why? It isn't like he has anything to return to."

Silence fell on the room. What could possibly be said to make tragedy less tragic, to make death less final? Whatever it was, Leonardo desperately wanted to hear it. But there was nothing to say. He felt exhaustion sweeping over him, and his thoughts wandered to what it would feel like if he just put his head down on his pillow and never woke up again.

"It is not over yet, Leonardo."

"But there's no end in sight. And certainly not one worth living for."

"If you give up, there may not be."

Very slowly, Leonardo looked up, meeting his _sensei_'s eyes in the flickering candlelight. "I need some kind of hope, _sensei_. But there is none."

"You fail to see hope because you fail to see the true problem."

"What problem?"

"That you feel no different now than you did at sixteen, and so you expect that Raphael is no different."

"Or maybe I expect that he's no different because he really isn't."

"If that were the case, do you really think I would allow him to continue living here?"

Leonardo studied his _sensei _for a long moment, considering that. Then, finally, he lowered his gaze. "Why do you?" he finally asked, barely a whisper.

"He has fought his demons, Leonardo," Master Splinter answered quietly. "And he has won. But you still struggle with yours."

Leonardo was quiet for a moment, watching and considering. "You really believe he's changed," he realized. "That he's not like he was back then."

"Yes, Leonardo. I have to believe it."

"Why?"

"Because if I do not," Master Splinter smiled faintly, sadly, "then there is no hope left for this clan."

*X*X*X*

Michaelangelo stared down at the small metal box on the floor in front of him. He'd put a lock on it, knowing it wouldn't stop him if he really wanted to get into it. He'd put the locked box under his bed, knowing that the Hudson River would be a better place to put it. But he wanted it here. He wanted it here to remind him that he didn't want what was inside of it. That he'd chosen not to want it. He wanted it here because it would stop him from obtaining its contents somewhere else. He had some at home, after all, and his was better. He wanted it here because it was hard to get into, because it would take time and effort, and a deliberate action. It wouldn't be an accident, something that just "happened". It would be a deliberate choice to destroy his life.

His fingers brushed the lock, feeling the texture of the cold, smooth metal. It would take him thirty seconds to get it open. Once he got the lock off, he'd have to pry the box open. It had been super-glued shut two years ago. And in all the times that he'd stared at this box, he'd never opened it since. He shut his eyes, and took a deep breath, letting it out slow.

Beside the box was his phone, and he reached for it slowly. Six hours since Raph had left. It would've been long enough for him to get drunk. It wouldn't be long enough for him to calm down. He probably wouldn't answer the phone. And when he didn't, it would only take five minutes for Mike to get the box open.

But he did answer.

"What the hell do you want?"

Mike swallowed hard, running his finger along the edge of the box as delicately as if he was caressing a lover. _Hang up on me. Please just hang up... _"Just tell me one thing, Raph," he whispered.

"What?"

He didn't allow the angry tone to make him feel anything, one way or another. He shut his eyes, sliding his hand over the top of the grey box. There was no dust. It had found its way to the middle of his bedroom floor many times in the past two years.

"Would you have killed her?"

Silence answered him. Raphael wasn't in a bar. A bar wouldn't be that quiet. Mike couldn't guess where he was, and he didn't really care. He was interested in only one thing: Raphael's answer. In this moment, it was the difference between life and death. It was the decision to open this box or shove it back under the bed. And while he hated to admit it, Mike knew what he wanted the answer to be. He was just so tired of fighting.

_Just tell me it's over, Raph. Just tell me I can stop hoping that you're anything like my brother._

"No."

Mike's heart sank, and he felt tears burn at the backs of his eyes. He pulled the phone away and closed it, dropping it on the floor. He wanted to throw it against the wall. "No" meant that he couldn't give up yet. It meant that it still mattered if he gave up. It meant that this box needed to stay closed, because there was still a chance that life was worth something.

_Maybe he's lying_.

But he wasn't lying. And Mike knew that. He hated it - it infuriated him - but he knew it. And at the same time, he was horrified at how selfish his thoughts were. Shouldn't that have been the answer he wanted to hear? Shouldn't he be glad that his brother's anger was under control? Shouldn't he be glad that there was hope? But he wasn't glad. Because whatever else it meant, that answer had also meant that he had to let this pain continue for now. Maybe it would go away someday for real, not just because he put an end to his own suffering.

Mike grabbed the box and threw it under the bed so far it hit the wall. Then he flopped down face-first on the mattress, buried his face in his pillow, and sobbed. _Damn it, Raph... Why can't you just say it's over?_


	5. Chapter Four

**CHAPTER FOUR**

"So she followed you home. So what?"

Raphael stared for a moment, not sure how to answer that. But the woman seated comfortably on the balcony railing - naked under that thin robe, if he had to guess - was completely serious.

"Baby, in case you didn't notice, I gotta keep a low profile around here if I don't want to turn into a science experiment. To say nothing of the people in this town who'd like to see me dead. I don't exactly want them knowin' where I sleep, ya know?"

She smiled as she tipped up her beer and took a long drink. "People like who?"

"Huh?"

"Who would want to see you dead? I mean, your charming personality aside, you hardly strike me as a troublemaker."

He stared blankly at her for a moment and she chuckled. "I'm kidding, Raph. You need another beer?"

"Yeah."

She stood, walked back inside, and returned with two new, cold bottles. She handed one to him, and held the other out of the way as she ran a hand up his thigh, from his knee up along the tensed muscles. Her fingers brushed his cold _sai_ and his hand closed around her wrist instantly, pulling her hand away. There were a few areas that were off limits. That was one of them.

"So what do you study?" she asked quietly as she moved back to the other support beam and leaned against the railing this time instead of jumping up to sit on it. "I assume if you're getting death threats and carrying _sai_ you know how to use them."

He hesitated a moment more before answering. "Yeah, I can use them."

"Where'd you learn?"

"Raised with it."

"What's 'it'? _Aikido_?"

"_Ninjutsu_."

He studied her a moment, watching her reaction. She looked away, but didn't seem startled. "What do you study?" he asked.

"What makes you think I study anything?"

"I saw your weapons rack. You familiar with all those?"

She smiled. "For display purposes only, stud."

He nodded, and looked away again, his eyes falling to the yard behind the house. He wasn't sure he believed that, but he also wasn't terribly sure it mattered. She was no threat to him, at any rate. He spent a few minutes in silence, and she took another long drink from her beer before she came close again.

"Anything I can do to help you relax?" she whispered, leaning in close. "Tea? Massage? A nice long, slow fuck?"

"Mmm. Long and slow wasn't quite what I was thinking," he mumbled, more to himself than to her.

She grinned. "Well, I'm all outta ice cream so yer gonna have to get creative if you wanna try some more kinky shit."

He glanced at her, raising an eyeridge, and she smiled.

"What you got on under this?" he asked quietly, fingers lightly playing over the silky fabric.

"Why don't you take me inside and find out?"

He grinned. "Who said anything about going inside?"

***X*X*X***

8:56. Leonardo breathed out slow, his fingers sliding up over his face as he hung his head between his shoulders, looking away from the clock. The lair was quiet. Mike was off running again. Don hadn't been home in days, but at least Leo knew where he was. Raphael had come in sometime early this morning, slept into the afternoon, and was gone again. Master Splinter had been in his room since about eleven. Leonardo had been sitting at the kitchen table for hours now, and he'd hardly heard a sound.

Practice - for him, at least - had lasted well into the afternoon. Meditation had killed a few more hours. A movie that he had already seen twice, a book he'd been meaning to finish... He'd drank so much tea he didn't think he could stand one more cup of it. He'd run out of things to do. He hated feeling like this. But he was used to it. He always felt like this nowadays.

He could feel the tension knotting his muscles, threatening the backs of his eyes with a dull, steady pain. Tonight, his mind had decided to torture him with one problem in particular: Raphael.

He sighed. At one point, it might have been a power struggle between them. Waiting to see which one was more stubborn, who would win in the end. Would Raph get away with it? Would he be caught without a comeback? But that fight had ended long ago. And it was pretty obvious who had won in the end. He still went out, still did as he pleased. Still put them in danger. And it had gotten to the point where they had a choice to either accept him - and all his actions - or reject him altogether. Neither was really an option.

What he did was dangerous. To himself, to the entire family. And Leo was waiting in dread for the moment when that all became painfully clear. He didn't know all of what his brother did out there, but he wasn't stupid. He had a good idea. And it didn't comfort him much to know that Raphael probably, hopefully, wasn't stupid enough to get mixed up in drugs. The alcohol was more than enough to drug him. And sure, he was as well-trained as any of them. But how capable could one be when totally smashed?

It would only take one time, being caught off guard. And the Foot Clan wasn't the only - or even necessarily the biggest - threat they had to worry about. They'd not been trained with the Foot Clan in mind. They'd been trained for survival against an unforgiving world that saw in them as a potential opportunity to advance science. Sooner or later, Raphael's carelessness would catch up to him.

He glanced up at the clock as he heard the door open. It was almost nine. That meant it wasn't Raph. He wouldn't be home until much later, if he came home at all. Instead, Leo heard Mike's voice, followed by Don's. Leo smiled a little. If anyone could get Don to come out of his cave, it was Mike. And he kept trying. Once in a while he even succeeded - like tonight.

"So whaddaya wanna watch?" Mike's voice seemed out of place in the melancholy atmosphere.

"I don't care. Whatever." Don sounded appropriately tired.

Leo sighed. It was Monday, 9:03 pm. Almost time to leave.

He didn't look up as he felt a familiar presence enter the room. It wouldn't take long for Master Splinter to read him. No reason to speak.

"Is something troubling you, Leonardo?"

Sure enough...

Leo sighed and leaned back, shaking his head slightly. "_Iie, Sensei_."

It was a lie, and Master Splinter would know that. Leo didn't bother trying to cover that. Instead, he let his mind wander.

There was a time when things weren't so complicated. It seemed like ages ago now, when they hadn't lived in fear. When they'd been a family. When they'd actually gotten along. Before then, there was even a time when they enjoyed playing together, as kids.

Their relationships now were governed by distrust and fear. How ironic, as he couldn't honestly remember a battle he'd fought where he'd been afraid. Not like this. There had been times he thought he would die, but that wasn't really a fear. It was just a fact. He could die at the hands of an enemy. And really, he expected to. But this... This was on a totally different level. He was afraid for his brother, and for his family, and for what had somehow gotten so terribly out of hand.

Master Splinter sat down across from him, curling his tail around his feet. "Raphael, is it?"

Leonardo understood that he shouldn't let this consume him the way it did. He'd heard it over and over again in the past few years. He didn't have to like it, but the time had come and gone again when Master Splinter could protect them and keep them sheltered from the world above. And the time had also passed when Leonardo could _convince _them to stay safe. They all had to decide for themselves now if they would live together or die alone.

"Did you hear of the political assassination this weekend?" Leonardo asked quietly, his eyes not rising from the table. "He was running for Mayor. Beheaded right in the middle of a speech. In broad daylight. In front of live TV cameras and a few dozen police."

"I saw it."

"I have to wonder why they killed him, what kind of threat he posed."

_Sensei _hesitated for a moment. "It could have been anything."

"A dozen TV cameras pointed right at him and nobody saw a thing. And it's not even like they shot him or something from a distance. Black shadow, right up close... blood everywhere and no chance of an ID."

He didn't bother to go on. Master Splinter had said he'd seen it. No surprise; the media was having a field day. The city was in a panic as police tried every technique they knew to pinpoint "The Shadow Killer" as the press had dubbed him. But Leo knew exactly what he was, as he was sure his _sensei_ did as well.

"They're so sloppy, and yet so damned effective. What kind of publicity stunt was that?"

"The Foot Clan is not known for their subtlety. At least, not in recent years."

Leo looked up, unable to hide his concern. "Do you think Oroku Saki is still alive?"

It was the one question he didn't dare to ask, but the one he most needed answered.

"I'm afraid I do not know," _Sensei _admitted quietly. "But it would certainly seem to fit his sense of... style."

Leo's voice dropped to a low whisper as he continued. "He killed three cops and five civilians on his way out. Including a fifteen-year-old boy who tried to stop him."

His fists clenched, cold eyes trained on the surface of the table. These were the people Raphael chose to make himself an open target to? Without offering himself a way out? How long would it take? His eyes closed slowly as he released the grip, and his head dropped again as he realized he'd come full circle.

"Yes," he finally admitted quietly. "Raphael. I'm worried about him."

Master Splinter sighed softly. "Raphael knows just as much as you do what sort of danger the outside world is to us. We cannot stop him from willingly placing himself in harm's way if that is what he wants to do."

"No, we can't. But that doesn't mean I have to like it. And it doesn't mean that it's right."

"Of course not. And he knows this. He will have to face whatever consequences he incurs. We can only help him if he asks for our help."

"I know. I'm just going to have a hard time burying him when finds out the hard way that he needs our help."

Master Splinter tensed just slightly, but said nothing as Leonardo stood and took the mug to the sink, glancing at the clock.

"I'm going for a walk."

_Sensei_ smiled. "As you do every Monday night."

Leonardo ignored the implied question. "If he comes home..."

He shook his head as he trailed off. He didn't know how to finish that. What could he do? Kill him? What could he possibly do that hadn't already been done? He couldn't change his brother. He wasn't stupid enough to think he could.

"I don't want to fight with him," he finally finished. "It's just... It's pointless. And I don't think I have the energy."

A quiet sigh accompanied Master Splinter's nod. "Enjoy your walk, Leonardo. Raphael will come home when he comes home."

***X*X*X***

10:02.

"I tell ya, Leo. You are the most predictable person I've ever met in my life."

Leonardo smiled slightly as he set the rose on the soft grass that covered the grave. "I like structure."

Leslie chuckled. "I can tell. It's gotta be hard to time this so perfectly."

"Not really. The trains run the same schedule every weeknight."

"Yeah, but sometimes they're late. You never are."

"When they are, I walk faster."

"Heh. If we're talking about the same trains, you must run half the time."

He sat down beside the grave and glanced up as she settled across from him.

"So what's significant about the time?" she asked, curious. "Or is it just a convenient time to fit it into the schedule?"

He hesitated a moment, not sure he wanted to answer. But being careful about what he told her didn't mean that he couldn't tell her anything. She'd heard more than anyone else in his life about why he was here. Except that she still thought it was his sister's grave. And she had no idea why he would blame himself for his sister's murder. Some things, he couldn't explain.

"She died at 10:02," he stated, finally. "On a Monday night."

"Wow," Leslie mumbled. "Did someone see it? How'd you get the exact time?"

He shrugged. He didn't have an answer for that. Not one that he could give her. "I just know," he answered.

She shook her head a little, looking down. "That's amazing. Were you like... twins or something?"

He hesitated. How was he supposed to answer that? "No. We weren't."

Leonardo let his thoughts wander a little before bringing them back and turned his attention to the woman sitting across from him. He studied her carefully for a moment. Something was wrong. He could tell by her posture, the way she was hunched over her lap. It was unlike her. It took him a few minutes of quiet evaluation to remember why. It was June 27th.

"It's been two years now, hasn't it? Since you lost your mother?"

She nodded, glancing to the side, into the darkness where her mother's tombstone was shadowed. "To the day."

Leo followed her gaze. "Do you want to go sit over there?"

"No, it's okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Really. I'd rather not. Besides, I've been there most of the day. I even had lunch there this afternoon." She paused to look up at him and force a smile. "Is that crazy or what? Who has a picnic in a graveyard?"

"It's not crazy."

She hid her face with one hand. "And I've been crying all day long. It's sort of pathetic."

"No, it's not."

Something in him, something purely instinctive, wanted to comfort her. But he didn't really know what to say. In spite of the fact that he was a little more damaged, a little more bitter, and a little more distrustful since he'd entered the world above the sewers, he'd never really learned how to just _talk _to people - especially to women.

"I just miss her so much, you know?" She almost choked, struggling to hold back the tears.

He looked away. He didn't know.

She half-laughed, brushing her eyes roughly. "Yeah. Of course you do. Sorry."

"It's okay. You don't have to be sorry." Some things were better off not discussed.

"These past few weeks have been hell."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a wad of tissues, using them to wipe her eyes. All of her makeup had washed away long ago. He could see the dark streaks on the tissue.

"Why didn't you come over for dinner last night?"

"Sorry about that. I was..." _not feeling much like talking..._ "busy. Some things came up."

"Dale called off our engagement."

Leonardo blinked in surprise. "What? Why?" That had come out of the clear blue, and it caught him totally off guard.

"Does it matter?"

He stared, stunned. He had not known Dale, but he'd always been grateful for the man's place in her life. They'd been together from the start, and there was a certain amount of security in that. It meant that she would never be looking for a relationship with anyone else - including Leo. It kept their friendship from crossing the line into "relationship."

If he could use a metaphor to explain the way he felt about Leslie, she was like a blood transfusion - keeping him alive, stopping him from bleeding to death. She reminded him of what he had been before everything started falling apart; sometimes she could almost make him feel like that person again. He didn't think she was doing it on purpose, really. She was just being who she was.

If he'd met her four years ago instead of two, he knew he would've fallen head over heels for her. They would've had so much in common. But things had changed now. A lot of things had changed. Leonardo hardly recognized himself in those memories. He'd grown, and changed - not all for the better. He'd died so many times, he'd lost count. Each time he rose up from the ashes, he looked a little different. And each time, it was harder and harder to get up. Maybe the day wasn't far off when he simply wouldn't have the strength to get up again.

"Les, I'm so sorry."

She shook her head. "It's alright. I just really could've used a friend last night, Leo."

"I had no idea."

"He told me Saturday." She was wringing her hands, staring down at the grass between them. "We were talking about whose apartment we were going to move into after the wedding. He wanted to stay close to school and I wanted to be close to work. Same argument it's been for the past year. Somehow - I don't even remember how - it came out that he's been with this girl for almost six months now."

Leonardo lowered his head. Six months ago, she'd just gotten engaged. "I'm so sorry."

She laughed a little. "Will you stop saying that?" She used her tone to attempt to lighten the mood. It didn't really work.

He took a deep breath. How could he make it up to her? "I'll tell you what," he started, thinking fast. "Since I missed dinner last night, how about we reschedule and I'll bring the food? Tomorrow?"

"I work late tomorrow. I won't get home until three in the morning."

"Wednesday?"

She thought for a moment. "Eleven o'clock? Is that too late?"

"If it's a good time for you, I'll be there."

She smiled. "That would be great, Leo. I'd really appreciate that."

He smiled back. Another problem solved, to the best of his ability.


	6. Chapter Five

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Leonardo perched quietly on the railing of the fire escape. His eyes were fixed on the woman inside of the apartment - the woman who was once again setting two places at her table. Normally, she did this on Sunday and not Wednesday. And normally, he would be able to smell what she was cooking from here. But this week was different. This week, he owed her.

A slight smile crept across his face as he stepped down carefully onto the metal grate. Leslie was a genius, really. She'd known, when they first met, that he intended for their relationship to only span about five minutes. And really, it should have only lasted that long. Leo couldn't really describe what had caused him to follow her to her apartment. But once she'd found out that he knew where she lived, she knew exactly how to extend an invitation that would keep him coming back: a non-threatening, harmless invitation to dinner that he could either accept or decline, and she would take no offense.

That was how it had started.

"Leslie?"

"Oh! You're here!" She poked her head out of the kitchen and smiled as she saw the box he was holding. "Pizza. Great!"

She smiled warmly before ducking back into the kitchen. Leonardo breathed in deep. The apartment smelled good. The sweet scent of burning candles was in direct contrast to the grease-loaded steam seeping through the cracks in the pizza box.

"What do you want to drink?" she called.

"Water's fine."

She stepped out of the kitchen a moment later and set two glasses of ice water by the plates already on the table. "I made dessert," she smiled as she sat down. Leo sat across from her, carefully so that he didn't scratch the wood chair with his carapace. "And it looks really good. Better than I thought it would."

"What is it?" he asked, curious.

"Chocolate cherry brownies."

He raised a brow. That sounded like a lot of sugar. But of course, it was dessert. "I see."

She opened the pizza box and reached for a slice. "Omigod this looks so good," she slurred as she brought it to her mouth and took a big bite. "I haven't eaten all day."

"Why not?" He grabbed a piece of pizza from the box as well.

"Mmm." She finished chewing before she tried to talk again. "Been busy. I had a bunch of errands to run and a full shift at work."

"What's a full shift?" he asked. "What time?"

"Two to ten." She sighed deeply. "I'm so tired. Got up at about eight this morning and I've been running ever since."

Leonardo smiled slightly as he watched her. If the recent breakup had caused any strain on their friendship, he wasn't seeing it. He was glad. There weren't a lot of safe places he could go to get away. And there were even fewer places that were as comfortable and undemanding as this dining room table.

***X*X*X***

Mike couldn't down the water from the bottle fast enough.

"You've done well, Michaelangelo."

Mike hoped to God that was the signal that they were done. Every muscle in his body was screaming. He'd been drenched in sweat for the past hour, and his legs were so weak they were shaking. "_Arigatou, sensei._"

Splinter laughed quietly, and waved a hand to dismiss him. "{You look tired.}"

"{Me, tired?}" Mike's laugh sounded a little more hysterical than he'd intended, but he kept it brief. "{I could go another five or six hours!}"

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched to make sure that Master Splinter knew he was joking.

"{In that case, perhaps you will join us in the morning.}" Oh God, was he serious? "{After a shower and a good night's rest.}"

Mike laughed nervously as he knelt down to pick up the towel from the edge of the mat. He wiped his face and arms with it. "{_Sensei_, you've got to be kidding. If I can get out of bed in the morning, it will be a miracle.}"

"{Leonardo is wondering why you've stopped attending morning practice.}"

Mike's head dropped, his chin bouncing off the top of his plastron. He'd known that one was coming.

"{I admit that I'm curious as well.}"

Mike glanced at his _sensei_. "{My brain is dead asleep until at least noon. Do you have any idea what getting up at six a.m. does to my sleep schedule?}"

"{It forces you to change it, I'm sure.}"

"{If I go to bed early, I'll sleep for like an hour and then be wide awake. And the whole time from six a.m. until whenever I get to sleep again, I feel like I've been hit by a truck.}"

"{It can be done, Michaelangelo.}"

"Oh, I'm sure it can," Mike answered, switching to English without conscious thought. "I mean... I did it for fifteen years. But it's miserable. I'm not a morning person. And besides," he gestured, "if you think I can keep up with you and Leo for any length of time, you are seriously trippin'."

Splinter raised a brow. "Tripping?"

"Crazy. Insane. As in, there's no way. I'll be lucky if I'm able to walk in the morning."

"You are out of practice."

"And I'll fix that." Mike said it with such determination, he even believed it himself. "But I'm not doing it at six in the morning."

"I suspect that Leonardo would meet you later in the day if you would ask him."

Mike stopped abruptly, and turned to face his _sensei_. He wasn't sure why, but the suggestion caught him off guard. Not that he hadn't thought about it... But why was Master Splinter pointing it out?

"Leo doesn't like to be awake at my time of the night," Mike pointed out. "Except for Sunday and Monday nights, when he _ninjas_ himself into thin air."

"I suspect that he would meet with you," Splinter said again, ignoring the diversion.

Mike hesitated a moment, considering that fully. He grabbed the towel again as sweat dripped into his eyes. His mask was soaked, and it did nothing to keep his eyes clear at this point. He took it off with one hand and wiped his face with the other, still thinking of how he wanted to continue with this.

"You suspect that because you've asked him, haven't you?"

"I suspect it because I know my son," Splinter answered softly. "What he is willing to do and what he is able to do."

Mike chuckled. "I'm sure he's both willing and able to kick my ass for an hour or two every day. I'm just not sure that I'm willing to commit to something like that."

"Would it require so much of you?"

Mike tipped his head a bit, studying his _sensei_ curiously. This was a strange conversation. "Are you... asking me to do this?"

"I am."

"Why?" Mike draped the towel over his shoulders. "You haven't required us to have daily practice for over three years now. I know I'm winded, but am I _that _bad?"

"It is not about your skill. You have lost a fair amount of your precision, but your instincts and reflexes are still intact. I do not worry about your ability to defend yourself."

"It's not about my skill," Mike repeated. "That's because it's not about me at all, is it? It's about Leo."

Finally, Master Splinter nodded.

Mike sighed. He needed to sit down before his legs gave out. Without formality, he sat down on the edge of the mat, knees bent in front of him.

"Can I ask you a question, _Sensei_?"

"_Hai._"

"Am I wasting my time?"

There was no indication, from Splinter's calm expression, what he thought of that question. "Why would you think that?"

"Raphael seems to think that things could never go back to the way they were. And every time he and Leo look at each other, I tend to agree more and more."

Splinter hesitated for a moment, then answered slowly. Mike could tell he was weighing each of his words, considering it carefully before he spoke. "The relationship between Leonardo and Raphael is damaged far beyond what you can repair. If that is your only goal, you are indeed wasting your time."

"It's not my only goal. But it's certainly one of them. A big one."

"It is one you will not attain."

"My ultimate goal is to see this family function again. How is that supposed to happen when the two of them hate each other so much?"

"I would advise you to limit your own goals to ones that you can attain. There are deep wounds in both of your brothers that you have no business touching. And if you step between the two of them, you will be caught in the crossfire."

"Somebody's gotta do it."

"That somebody will not be you," Splinter warned. His voice was firm, bordering on a command. Maybe it was a command. "Neither one of them is prepared to reconcile the damage that has been done to their relationship. You do not want to be caught in the middle of that."

"But I am caught in the middle. And the more they keep fighting, the more wounds they make on each other."

"It is one wound," Splinter corrected. "Cut deeper and deeper into each of them. And that wound goes deeper than even you realize. If you poke and prod at it, even in an attempt to heal and help, you will kill them both. Leave it alone."

The tone was as close to anger as Mike had ever seen Splinter get. But it wasn't anger. It was the exact same tone he used when he was angry, but Mike could tell by the look on his face that he was not angry now. He used that tone to convey, very clearly, that he expected to be obeyed. What he was saying, he clearly regarded as a matter of life and death.

"I don't want to cause more damage," Mike said, backing down. He never would've thought to challenge that tone. "But if what you're saying is true, it goes back to my original question. And I am wasting my time and effort. Because if that wound can't heal, we'll never be a family again."

"I did not say it couldn't heal," Splinter corrected. "I said that you could not heal it."

"And I'm saying that if we're gonna throw all these pieces up in the air and hope they come back down again in the right order, Raph is absolutely right. That's never going to happen. Why am I even trying?"

Splinter didn't answer. Mike realized that his tone was bordering disrespect, and lowered his head submissively.

"There are problems here, _Sensei_. _Big _problems. Some of them you know more about than I do and some of them, to be perfectly honest, you don't even know about."

"I believe that."

"Doing everything I can do might kill me. Straight up, that's just the truth. But I'm willing to die for it if I could just see some hope. I don't need a guarantee, just hope. How am I supposed to give my all - to bleed until there's nothing left to bleed - for this when I can't believe that it's gonna mean something in the end?"

Master Splinter sighed. "My son, if you are hoping that there is anything I can say to make the pain of bleeding - of dying - any less, then I am sorry. I cannot do that."

Mike sighed as he looked away.

"But consider the alternative," _Sensei _continued. "Consider that you do not try. That you do not bleed. And consider spending the rest of your life not knowing if it might have made a difference if you had."

That kind of uncertainty was a fate worse than death. Mike didn't have to consider very long to reach that conclusion. He sighed as he bowed slightly, then dragged himself up to his feet. "Thank you, _sensei_," he said quietly. He sighed again, audibly. "I need to go take a shower before I pass out."

Splinter smiled, and nodded his dismissal. Mike bowed again before he turned, wobbling a little on shaky legs.

"If it's any consolation, Michaelangelo," Splinter called quietly, just before Mike left the room. He turned back to hear the last words. "You will not die alone."

Mike forced a smile at that, nodded, and then turned away again, heading for the shower.

*X*X*X*

"You realize I don't even know your name?"

Very slowly, the woman beside him opened her eyes. "Is that a real question?"

"Well, that's sure as hell not an answer."

She smiled as she arched her back, stretching and kicking off the blankets. "It's hot in here."

"And that's called a diversion."

"Do I need a more enticing distraction?" she asked with a smile, running her fingers along the ridges on his lower plastron.

"Or you could just answer the question."

"That would take all the mystery out of it."

"Not all the mystery. Just the part where I don't know what to call you."

"Call me anything you want."

"So I can _give _you a name then?"

"Sure."

He frowned, then spent a moment carefully considering what sort of name fit her. "Roxanne? Kristie?"

She made a face. "Sounds like an English poodle."

"Alright, so how about you give me a name. Doesn't have to be your real one. Just something to call you."

She hesitated a moment, considering. "How about... Diana?"

"Diana?"

She smiled. "Sure. From the Michael Jackson song."

"What song?"

"Dirty Diana."

He rolled his eyes. "Right."

His head snapped up as "Diana's" white cat jumped onto the bed, and watched as the cat climbed from her ankles all the way up to her chest. She looked at him as he placed his front paws on her breasts and purred loudly against the side of her face. Her hand came up, stroking his fur lightly, and he ducked away with a meow. She half laughed at him as he shunned her.

"What's _your_ problem?"

He ignored her, curling up on her stomach and purring until she attempted to touch him again. He protested, then moved a little further down her legs before curling up again. Raphael smirked at the smartass cat.

"Damn."

"Yeah, he gets like that sometimes," she mumbled, a faint smile on her lips. "Doesn't really wanna be pet, just wants to be close." She glanced up and smiled wider. "As opposed to you, who I'm sure would rather be pet. But I can only please one male at a time."

He looked down, studying the white ball of fuzz and debating whether or not he wanted to take back seat to a cat. Grayson looked up at him and watched for a moment, then lay his head back down and continued to purr. Raph grinned as he amused himself with thoughts of a shaved kitty cat.

"Oh, come on," she said, scratching behind the cat's ear. He leaned into her hand, happy to let her touch him so long as her _entire_ hand wasn't on him. "You couldn't hurt that _sweet_ face, now _could _you?"

"Not hurt. But scare the piss outta? Hell yeah. I do worse ta my brother all the time."

"Aw, come on…" she cooed. "I know you're really just a big softy at heart. You'd never hurt anything in real life."

He gave her a flat look, no more amused by her condescending tone than he was by her words. "Do that again an' I'm outta here."

She laughed, caressing the side of his face gently. "Oh, you can be sweet when you try, Raphy…" she breathed, the same tone just slightly quieter now. "Give it a chance. Communewith your inner self."

Grayson purred happily, communing with his inner self. Raphael only stared at her and mouthed, "Raphy?" In one swift movement, he was upright. She struck a pose, but said nothing as he glanced back at her.

"Raffi was that freak with the guitar and the kids' sing-a-longs. Don't _ever_ call me that."

She smiled. "Okay."

"Have you seen the guy whose name yer calling me?"

She laughed quietly. "Oh, yes. My grandmother used to play him for me when I was three. I could sing the songs for you if you'd like."

"An' I could vomit on yer head from here."

"Not a fan?"

"Why would you wanna even consider calling the man you have sex with by that name? I mean… that'd be like me insisting on calling you 'Leo'."

"Who's Leo?"

He looked away. "My brother."

"Ah, now that's a thought I didn't need."

"Right! See? By rights, that image should be the sort of thing that nightmares are made of…"

"'Oh, Raph!' 'Oh, Leo!'"

He shuddered. That was something he'd _never _wanted to hear. "Okay. Quit it. That's sick an' wrong."

She chuckled. "Yeah, okay."

She sat up, sliding her hands up his arms. "But for the record, I don't think of the dude singing about the friendly snake under the bed when I call you… that thing I'm not going to call you anymore… just like I don't think of a Renaissance painter when I call you Raphael."

"Friendly snake in the bed?" He choked back his laughter for long enough to manage the rest of his thought. "What the hell kinda stuff'd yer gramma make you watch?"

"Not in the bed. Under the bed. The snake he found on his walk and it was a friendly snake and it became his pet? And he kept it under the bed?"

"Under's so much better!" he smirked, cracking up all over again.

She couldn't help but laugh right along with him. "I said under! Under the bed. Or the octopus in the garden? I remember that one pretty well too..."

He snorted. "Okay, so you like tentacles and snakes, huh?"

"Now I'm just digging the hole deeper. Time for me to shut up."

He was still laughing as he turned, grabbed her arms, and pulled her onto his lap.

"The difference is, baby, Raphael _is _my name, shared with a dead painter or not." He kissed her forehead. "But whatever. If you wanna call me yer 'friendly snake in the bed' I can swing with that too."

She grinned at him. "Yeah, well... I call 'em like I see 'em."


	7. Chapter Six

**CHAPTER SIX**

Nobody knew where Leonardo went on Monday night, but everyone knew he went somewhere. Raphael knew that if he came home around ten, he would bypass his brother. And that was certainly something to aim for. He was usually gone on Sundays, too... but there was no guarantee about that. He'd chosen to wait the extra day, for the assurance that he wouldn't have to deal with Leo. But he hadn't counted on being met by Master Splinter.

His attempt to walk past, to his room, was stopped by his _sensei_'s call. "I was not sure when we should be expecting you."

Raph paused, and turned to study Master Splinter, carefully evaluating the tone. He wasn't being confrontational. He almost sounded like he was inviting a conversation.

"You've been gone for nearly a week."

Even though Raph wasn't feeling particularly conversational, he knew he'd better give him what he was looking for before the conversation turned into a confrontation. "I knew Leo wouldn't be here," he admitted, deciding on the honest approach.

Master Splinter smiled a little, and nodded. "Come sit," he invited, gesturing to the sofa next to his chair.

Raphael glanced away, toward the door to his room. "I'm really -"

"Sit now."

_Sensei _didn't have to sound angry to make it clear that he was giving a direct order. There was no anger in his voice. But there was also no question that he expected to be obeyed. Raphael sighed as he came closer, and sat down on the edge of the sofa, hands folded between his knees.

"You put all of us in danger, Raphael," Master Splinter said quietly. But his voice was not accusative, and Raphael was careful not to get defensive.

"It's not like I did it on purpose."

"I believe that." Master Splinter took a sip from the cup that was resting in his hands. "But it makes no difference in the end, if we are discovered here."

Raphael sighed, and looked away. "Look..." he started, calm but clearly irritated. "What do you want from me? I stay away and you worry, I come home and you feel threatened."

"You are oversimplifying it."

"Am I?"

"The woman you let follow you was the threat. Not you."

"I didn't let her follow me. She didn't exactly ask for permission."

"Then in that case, I am even more concerned."

Raph sighed audibly. "Of course you are."

"Raphael, you are _ninja_," he chastised, a little more roughly than he had been speaking to this point. "If you were irresponsible enough to let your senses be so dulled that you would not even notice an untrained woman following you, this is as great a fault - perhaps even greater - as if you had invited her down here."

Raphael set his jaw, and looked away as his _sensei_ continued.

"I trust that you would use judgment if you thought to invite anyone here, as we did when we all welcomed April and Casey. But you used no judgment in this matter, and it is the lack of judgment that I see as a threat to your safety and to this clan."

"Fine," Raph said. He'd had enough of this lecture. "So what do you want me to do about it?"

"What I want, and what you are willing to do, will not coincide. We both know this. So why do you even ask?"

Raph looked away, and licked his lips as he considered an answer. "I guess I keep thinkin' that if we have this conversation just one more time, we'll be able to work out some kinda compromise."

"Are you willing to compromise, Raphael?"

"I keep tryin' but every time I do, you come back with something else that's worse." He gestured in the air. "You tell me not to come home drunk so I stay gone. Then you tell me I need to come home 'cause you worry. We both know you want me to just hang out in the _dojo _like I did when I was ten. But we both know I ain't gonna do that. So either you want me here like I am now, or you don't. And I will give you whichever it is you want."

Master Splinter lowered his head, and sighed again. "Raphael, you are a part of this family, for our benefit and yours. This is your home, and you are welcome here. Whether you are here or away, it is not a compromise because it does not solve the problem."

"Then what is it you want from me?" Raph demanded.

"I want you to be aware of how your actions affect all those around you. If you cannot or will not change them, at least be aware so that you can minimize the damage, and minimize the threat."

"What threat?" Raphael asked. He was trying as hard as he could not to be vicious, but he was getting more and more frustrated. He didn't really want to fight. He just wanted to be heard. And getting angry would make that impossible. "The Foot Clan hasn't started a fight with us in almost three years."

"And we are still feeling the effects of the last fight they did start."

"_Sensei_, I'm not going to live my whole life in fear of stuff that _might_ happen. In another three years, is it gonna be long enough then to be able to move on?"

Splinter's eyes narrowed slightly. "When you can look at this family and say that we have completely healed from the damage they have done to us, then it will be long enough."

"That ain't ever gonna happen, _Sensei_. And you know it. What this clan was... it got broke. We can glue it back together but we ain't got all the pieces. We gotta work with what we got now."

"That does not mean that it is harmless to shatter what pieces we do have left."

"Like what?"

"Like your relationship with your brothers."

Raphael shook his head, resigned. This wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation. It probably wouldn't be the last. He had learned his lines so well, there was no anger to them anymore. "That was gone a long time ago."

"One of the missing pieces," Splinter offered, using Raph's analogy. "Tell me, where did those pieces go? Did they cease to exist? Or are they only lost and needing to be found?"

Raphael studied him for a moment. Then he looked away. He should've known better than to talk in riddles with his _sensei_.

"Look, Master Splinter, I'll be honest. Leo gets on my very last nerve with the way he worries himself sick every minute of every day about all the bad things that could happen. Mike is so fucking needy it's pathetic. And Don? I don't even fucking _know _him anymore. It's never gonna go back to what it was. Ever. I found a way that I can deal with that. Is that so fucking wrong?"

"It is wrong if your way of dealing with the problem is to hide yourself away from it. For if you are not part of the solution, you are only adding to the problem."

"You expect me to solve this?" Raphael laughed briefly, cynically. "You can't be serious."

"You played a significant role in breaking this family, Raphael," Splinter answered flatly. "I am completely serious when I say that I expect you to play a significant role in putting it back together."

Raphael's jaw set. He didn't answer. There was nothing more for him to say. After a long moment of silence, Master Splinter sighed again. "What you choose to do, Raphael, is what you will do. I have accepted this years ago. As long as your actions do not directly involve this clan, your business is your own. But regarding what happened here the other day, Leonardo is right. It becomes the affair of this entire clan the moment you bring it into our home. At that point, you forfeit your right to defend your privacy and independence."

Raphael kept his eyes on his _sensei_ for a long moment. "So what do you want me to do?" he asked. "About her?"

Master Splinter sighed deeply, and shook his head. "There is nothing to do now but wait," he concluded after a long moment of silence. "Now it is her turn to do what she will do."

*X*X*X*

10:02. Leonardo was right where he should be. He knew he wasn't alone, and he knew it wasn't Leslie watching him. Not tonight. Tonight, he'd been followed. He'd known it from the moment he'd set foot on the subway platform. Whether it was chance that their paths had crossed there or it had been planned, he wasn't sure. But he knew who was behind him, and he made no effort to shake him off.

The rose was already set, incense lit, and Leonardo had settled by the time he felt the approach. He didn't look up as his brother's moonlit shadow fell over the tombstone.

"Who was she?"

Leonardo closed his eyes. "She was a friend."

For a long moment, there was no response. Then, finally, Donatello sat down beside him, legs crossed, studying the engraving. He was noticing the obvious. She was young, he didn't know her, and the date of her death always coincided with the time of the year when Leo struggled the hardest with that lingering depression that naturally came over them all in the winter months. At its core, it was biological; they were supposed to be hibernating. But the anniversary of her death made things immeasurably worse.

"Casey is buried here too, you know."

Leonardo set his jaw, absorbing the blow before he nodded. Don didn't mean it as a blow; he was sure of that.

"You ever go see him?"

Leo took a calming breath before answering. "Sometimes."

"But you come see her every week."

Leonardo turned slowly to look his brother in the eye. Don wasn't the type to arbitrarily spout off emotion. In fact, of all of them, he was by far the most levelheaded when it came to things like that. That accusatory tone had a purpose.

"What do you want, Donny?"

"I want to understand."

Leo looked away.

"That was the year from hell, Leo. You're coming here to memorialize it? To keep it alive?"

"Not it. Her."

"Why?"

"Because nobody else will."

"That's bullshit."

Leo glanced back at him, but said nothing.

"It may be true, but it's a bullshit reason."

For a long moment, neither one of them spoke. Then, finally, Leonardo spoke. "What do you want from me, Donny?"

"I want you and Raph to stop living like we're sixteen. It's like watching a bad play that keeps getting rehearsed, over and over again. You keep coming here and reliving it every week, and then you come home and expect the rest of us to do the same."

"That's not true."

"That's bullshit. I could set a clock by you. You come here on Monday, on Tuesday everyone knows to steer clear of you. By Friday you lighten up, Sunday you're almost normal, and then you come back here again on Monday."

"I have no desire to relive that time of my life."

"I didn't say you _want _to. I said you do it. And you make the rest of us do it. And sooner or later, it's going to kill us all."

Donatello stood. Leo said nothing as he closed his eyes and waited for him to leave. But he took his time, stopping to speak once more before he turned away.

"I don't know who she was. I don't know why it's more important to you to honor her memory than your family. But we're dying, Leo. We all are."

"What do you want me to do about it?" Leonardo demanded, feeling the first flicker of anger rise up inside of him. He knew they were broken. They'd been broken for a long time. But he couldn't fix that.

"I want you to _care_, Leo. Just care. That's it."

Slowly, Leonardo looked up, feeling his hands clench into fists. "You think I don't care?"

"I think you're more concerned with your penance and your pride than with making amends."

"Just what sort of amends do you want, Donatello? You think I haven't tried to level with him?"

"I think you want him to come to you on your terms. And he won't." Don paused for a moment. "I wouldn't either."

"He was wrong."

"Yeah, he was. But he's not the one carrying the grudge three years later."

"He has no right to carry a grudge."

"I do. I was the one who almost got killed over the whole damn thing, remember?"

Leonardo clenched his teeth so hard he thought they might crack, looking away again as the anger built, layer upon layer. This wasn't the time or the place for this.

"And let me tell you something, Leo."

Donatello took a step closer, and crouched down beside him, elbows on his knees. Leo kept his face turned away as his brother spoke, low and angry.

"If it was my grave you were sitting at right now, it still wouldn't make it okay."

He didn't say another word. Instead, he straightened and walked away quietly. Fists clenched in the grass, Leo didn't turn to watch him go.

*X*X*X*

"Donny? You in here?"

Mike stepped out of the dark tunnel and looked into the empty room. It had been a subway station once, and it still resembled one. But it had been abandoned for decades. This whole tunnel was abandoned. It was blocked off where it split off of the tracks that were still in use, but the boards hadn't been that hard to move. If anyone was looking for it, they might be able to tell that the loose boards covered a tunnel that led somewhere. Don had never bothered to put up any kind of security in this place. Mike had always wondered why.

Putting both hands up on the platform, Mike jumped up, using his upper body strength to pull himself up the rest of the way. He swung his legs easily onto the cement that was cracked with age and disuse.

"Oh, Donny..."

He grinned as he looked around. Don wasn't here. If he was, he would've answered by now. Odd. Usually when he wasn't at home, he would be here. Walking slowly, Mike headed for the computer set up on the desk.

A fridge, a desk, a chair, and an old couch where Don slept most of the time were the only pieces of furniture in the room. And unlike the clutter of Don's work area back at the lair - or his room, for that matter - there wasn't much on the desk. Just a monitor, a keyboard, a mouse, and a pad of notebook paper. Ironic, since the excuse he'd used to set this place up was that he needed a lab away from anyone who might be disturbed by his toys, electronics, and inventions.

Nobody could argue with that. They'd all had close encounters with Don's creations at some point or another. But there was nothing here to suggest that he was using this space as a lab. In fact, Don hadn't built much of anything in the past few years. He just fixed and maintained what they already had.

Mike reached for the notebook and flipped it open, somewhere toward the back. He didn't know what it was for and what might be written in it and he really wasn't trying to be nosy. He needed paper to write a note. That was all he was interested in. He also needed a pen. He scanned the desktop for one, but there was nothing but a layer of dust. A drawer in the desk was the next place to try, but it was locked. Mike laughed out loud at that.

"Geez, Don, you gotta be kiddin' me."

He searched the rest of the room - every bit of it - but couldn't find a pen. Then it occurred to him that Don would notice anything unfamiliar on his computer's desktop. He could use the computer to write a note and leave it in the middle of his desktop. It wouldn't be missed that way, he was sure. But he couldn't get the computer to advance beyond the black screen that came on when he powered it up. It wanted a password, and Mike didn't have it.

Michaelangelo sighed. Breaking passwords was beyond Mike's level of computer expertise. He didn't even want to try. Knowing Don, the computer might self-destruct or something if he failed to get it right after three tries. But he needed a pen, damn it... He eyed the drawer carefully, and a slight smirk crossed his face. A challenge! He might not be able to break Don's password. But he'd be willing to bet he could pick that lock with one hand tied behind his back.


End file.
